Shaking Shoulders
by panlesters
Summary: One word is running through Jake's mind as he slumps into his desk and opens his case file. It's settled in the front of his brain and had gathered more and more weight until his head is pounding, one word plays over and over, drowning out the rest of the world and only leaving him when more painful words hit his ears like bullets and make him shudder in pain. Innocent.


_**So I'm back with another fic about Jake Peralta and his many vulnerabilities! Fun times for yall.**_

 _ **I am a little worried that this is a little too much because it goes a lot deeper into post-prison Jake than the show does, but I'll let you guys be the judges of that.**_

 _ **The idea for this fic came from the line "your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder inside your head than a winter of death" from Oh Ms Believer by Twenty One Pilots.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

Jake doesn't think to knock on Captain Holt's door when he approaches it. Why should he? But upon walking through the door, Jake catches the words of the apparent TED talk Holt is watching.

"As you can see, prison suicide rates have increased dramatically in the last 10 years," the lecturer tells the crowd. "And those who do survive prison to their release date are often left mentally scarred with symptoms of psychosis and personality disorders."

Jake isn't normally the kind of person to overthink things he's caught from someone else's conversation or overheard words from barely-caught TV shows, but he takes the words in and the wind is knocked out from him somehow. The weight of what the lecturer has said to his audience has settled uncomfortably in his chest and suddenly he's finding it hard to breathe.

"Peralta?" Captain Holt pauses his video and looks up. "Was there something?" a frown crosses Holt's features. "Has something upset you?"

Jake draws a shaky breath and swallows hard.

"Uh. Just coming in to see about a new case, Sir."

Holt hands Jake a file from his desk and briefs him on this new case, but watches Jake closely as he pales and shudders and stares into space as Holt talks. Once Jake's left the office, Holt sends a quick email to Santiago: _look out for Peralta today. Something is bothering him._

He watches Amy glance up at her boyfriend, who has opened the case file but is staring off into space unblinkingly.

"Jake?" he looks up at her, a glassy look on his face. When he sees the worry in her eyes he offers her an unconvincing smile. Amy knows better than to push him, but she spends the rest of her day watching over him and just being there with him.

One word is running through Jake's mind as he slumps into his desk and opens his case file. It' settled in the front of his brain and had gathered more and more weight until his head is pounding, one word plays over and over, drowning out the rest of the world and only leaving him when more painful words hit his ears like bullets and make him shudder in pain.

 _Innocent._

 _Innocent innocent. Innocent._ __

" _Suicide rates have increased."_ _ **Innocent innocent innocent innocent inno**_ _"psychosis and personality disorders"_ _ **cent innocent innocent innocent innocent.**_

Jake feels as though he is gasping for air. He isn't; he's sat dead still staring into nothing, unable to tear his mind away from the idea that he could have put away _innocent_ people for years at a time without a second thought. He is trying to force himself to come up for air but he is stuck. His mind will not let him leave this place for even a second. He needs to breathe, he needs to stop but he can't, he needs to distract himself from this but how does he escape oh _damn-_

"Jake?" "Jake?" he is pulled back to reality, grounded by her voice. Jake looks over at Amy, who has concern written all over her face, and offers her a smile he knows looks horrifically fake.

But even when he's out of the hole he'd dug for himself, a hole deep enough to account for every person he's put behind bars, every possible innocent bystander, he is still covered. There is dirt all over his skin and it won't come off, he could scrub and scrub and _scrub_ but the guilt is still there, the weight of what he's done to all those innocent people will never leave his chest and

He draws a shaky breath, mumbles something to Amy and allows himself a second to pull himself together. He makes small talk with Amy, and is grateful she doesn't ask him about this, before slowly being pulled back down into the mental hole he'd made for himself.

When he and Amy walk through the door to their apartment, Jake silently and robotically goes into the kitchen to start on dinner. It's not long before Amy's joined him. She knows that he goes through this sometimes, that he's not good with emotions and he'll talk when he's ready. She normally would give him space in these times, but something is _different._ She won't pressure him, but she makes sure she stays near him through the whole night, near enough that if he reached his arm out in panic, he could find her and regain a grasp on reality. She is there for him and he is grateful, even though he says nothing.

Jake purposefully stays awake when the bedside lamp gets turned out. He lies with his eyes closed but his mind wide open. His arm is lying over Amy's: he needs an anchor to reality, to remind him there is something good in his life, he has been rewarded for _something_. But when her breathing has evened out and she begins to snuffle with every other breath, he knows he is alone with his thoughts.

He breaks.

One minute he's lying on his back, seemingly calm and collected. The next minute he's up, his arms wrapped around his legs and his eyes pressed into his knees, trying desperately to stifle the tears that fall from his eyes, that simply echo his thoughts over and over again, every droplet a poisonous reminder. _Innocent innocent innocent._ It's not long before the sobs begin to wrack his body, loudly and abundantly escaping his mouth but he can't stop it. He doesn't even realise Amy is awake, not when she whispers his name as she comes round, not when her voice becomes louder as the realisation of what is happening hits, not when her voice is flooded with concern. But when Amy's arms wrap slowly and meaningfully around Jake's quivering body, he leans heavily into her touch, removing his hands from around his knees to around her, hands grabbing at her shirt for dear life. A hand moves to his hair and she presses a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

They don't talk for a while. Amy sits and lets Jake cry, and he slowly falls further and further until his head is in her lap and she's carding her hands through his soft hair. Gradually she lowers herself till she's lying down with his head on her chest. She tangles her leg through his and pulls him close.

"Jake." She murmurs. She feels him shift his head to look up at her. "Baby, do you want to talk about it?"

Jake draws a shaky breath and nods, a sob pushing through his lips. Amy moves her hand back up to his hair to relax him.

"I just." He begins, but stops to take in a gulp of air. "Ames, how many people have I put away in the ten years I've been a cop? How many of them were innocent?"

Amy tightens her grip around him in understanding and lets him continue.

"How many innocent people have I put away for years? Not everyone has cop friends who can work their case and prove their innocence. Innocent bystanders go to prison and they -" He takes another shuddering breath. "They stay there."

"Ames, how many lives have I ruined? How many families have I torn apart by arresting the wrong perp?" He takes her hand as he continues, his voice beginning to break with the weight of his guilt. "How many innocent, mentally stable people have I sent to prison? How many of them ended up with psychosis? How many of them _killed themselves_ , Ames? I did that! I caused that!" his breathing begins to strain again and Amy offers a _shhhh_ as she pulls her hand through his hair again. Suddenly Jake feels small and so painfully vulnerable. He looks away from Amy and pulls his head from her touch. "What have I _done_?"

"Jake." Amy whispers. There are tears in her eyes at this point and she's trying so hard to hold out and be strong for him but she hates, _hates_ seeing him like this. "You're a great detective. Babe, you're an _incredible_ detective. You always find the right person. You always have."

"You don't know that," Jake whispers, almost inaudibly.

"Hey." Amy whispers, drawing Jake's face back up to look at her. "You do your job right, and _well_. You have honesty and integrity, and you work so hard to do the right thing." Jake opens his mouth but she continues. "I _know_ , sweetie, that doesn't change that sometimes people are innocent. But I've seen you. You work _tirelessly_ , Jake, and you put so much effort into catching the right person. You have a good, strong heart and you put it to good use and if you think someone is guilty, you prove it. I know you've been there now, babe, and I know you've got the experience, and I know you're scared. But you do the right thing. You _always_ do the right thing, and you don't ever go out on a whim. You check back your facts again and again until you have completely solid evidence. Sometimes we do catch the wrong person. And that's _awful_ , babe, but you _always_ do everything in your power to make sure you don't. Don't beat yourself up for being a good cop."

Amy knows all too well that a few kind words will not solve Jake's problem. She knows he'll wake up tomorrow morning and silently make coffee, and the house won't be filled with Taylor Swift. She knows he'll offer to do desk work on Monday morning instead of going out into the field to avoid arresting the wrong person. She knows he'll bring old cases home sometimes and pour over them to check, double check, and triple check that he has the right person. But that is how he heals, and Amy is there for him, every step of the way.

 _ **Comments are super appreciated and constructive criticism is welcome! Feel free to come scream with me about B99 on my tumblr hearteyes-peralta**_


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